


Battlements

by peacefultyranny



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Other, Second-Person POV, this is very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 17:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3075803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefultyranny/pseuds/peacefultyranny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift contemplates the peace and his spark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battlements

**Author's Note:**

> Written eons ago but finally finished up for the holidays.

The breeze is cool on your plating, a welcome relief from the humid heat of the organic planet that seems to cling to your armour - and likely does; alien microbes ride the hot air currents during the long, hot days, enough to suffocate non-native organics and clog the intake vents of the crew of the  _Lost Light._  Stretched out beyond the hill you’re perched upon is a wide No-Man’s Land of grassy field, broken only by the distant minefield of foothills and the even farther battlements of mountains, garrisoned by the setting twin suns. 

You find it funny how, even nestled in peace, you still think of war.

Your thoughts are broken by the whirr of machinery in motion and the heavy thud of footfalls. You can tell it’s Rodimus without turning to look: something you’d explain away with auras, unwilling to tell him that you’ve become so attuned to his existence that you could tell just by the pitch of his idling engine.

He pauses just behind you for a moment, and when you don’t move he seems to take it as an invitation - it is. He flops down beside you, legs folded awkwardly beneath him (yours are crossed neatly, blade of your great sword laid across your knees) and coughs softly. A faintly-glowing cube enters your field of view, and you take the offered energon with a small smile and nod.

You both sit in silence for a few moments as the suns slowly duck behind the jagged mountain range, and while you appear to be meditating, you find yourself caught up on what Rodimus sees as he looks out at the sunset, while simultaneously counting down how long until he can’t sit still anymore.

"So," Rodimus says at just over the two-minute mark - a new record for him, really - shifting his limbs around into a position that honestly looks more uncomfortable than the last, "Watching the sunset, huh? Isn’t that a little cliche?"

You merely incline your helm, optics flicking over to the other mech. You weren’t watching it before, but now you find your optics drawn to how the warm orange glow glints off the gloss of Rodimus’s bright paint, tiny flecks of airborne particles catching the light around him, an atmosphere far more beautiful than the underside of condensed water vapours in the sky lit with dying light. You’re tempted to simply stare at him rather than respond. but you drop your helm and smile sheepishly at your folded legs instead. Beside you, your captain snickers.

"I wasn’t really paying attention, to be honest," you admit, giving him a sidelong glance before gesturing to the wide expanse of rolling fields and distant mountain range spread out below you, beautiful and untouched save for the breeze ruffling the long, twisting grass-like plants covering the ground and tickling the undersides of your legs. "We’re exposed to the sky here, but with the forest behind us, the only good way into this area from the ground is through that valley -" you point it out to him, a dark, shadowed groove in the mountains, just barely visible over the crest of a foothill, "- and planes would be forced to funnel through there too, unless they have the fuel to waste going all the way around the mountains at night, since microbes gather up near the tops at night but are thigh everywhere else during the day."

You open your mouth to continue, servo already half-raised again to point out another feature in the landscape, when you notice the look Rodimus is giving you. Leaning back with his hands braced behind him, optical ridge quirked, a crooked grin on his face: Rodimus is the very picture of amusement. You ruffle your plating a little, caught between a huff and embarrassment, and he just laughs and gently knocks his knee against yours. “Drift,” he says - slowly, but voice thick with a stifled chuckle, “we’re on  _vacation_. Not only that, but the war’s over! You can relax a little,” There’s a quiet pause for a few seconds, and then the red mech snorts quietly, “Never thought I’d have to tell you that.”

You smile back - really, its hard not to: Rodimus’s laughter is infectious, his constant easy confidence settling something warm in your spark in a way that’s too hard for you to fight - and shrug before letting the tension ease from your shoulders, helm dropping back. You stare up at the first stars peaking through the darkening sky like this for a few seconds, and then flop back into the long grass, stirring settled microbes and sending them up in a small cloud around you. You both cough and sneeze and Rodimus breaks out into a gigglefit, you following after once you clear the organic particles from your vents - something that doesn’t last very long when the other mech falls back beside you and starts another round of cough-laugh-sneezing.

"Some vacation," you say, half laughing and half wheezing around your clogged throat, and he just snorts mid-laugh beside you. You rub the dust from your optics with the soft, polymer-coated tips of your fingers and open them again to find Rodimus’s face hovering just above you, blue optics bright above yours. Your vents catch in a way that little microbes have nothing to do with then, optics sliding closed as Rodimus lowers himself down and presses his warm, still-smiling lips to yours. 

Your whole body feels simultaneously like it’s melting into the ground, atoms merging with the earth pressed to your back, and surging upwards, scattering you to the sky. The other mech pulls back, leaving you in a daze and content to simply watch his lips move, not catching what he’s said til after he’s grinning down at you.

"How’s that for a vacation, then?"

And you grin back, spark pounding in your chest but feeling more at peace with yourself than you have in a long, long time, and reach up to loop your arm around his neck and drag him back down again. 

"Could be better." you tell him, lips ghosting over his as you speak, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth as you kiss again.


End file.
